


Truth or Dare

by oreiad



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Multi, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9094186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oreiad/pseuds/oreiad
Summary: “Tsukishima’s trying to escape!” Hinata wails, reminding Kei piercingly of a banshee. Kei winces. Shit.Or,Karasuno forces Kei into a game of truth or dare.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I'll get the next chapter out soon! Schoolwork is awful.

Tsukishima Kei sincerely regrets being born.

It began on the fourth and last night of the summer training camp, when everybody in Karasuno had piled their futons together, bunched up in a messy, noisy circle. Instead of  _ sleeping _ like  _ normal people.  _ Of course, he had already grabbed a pillow and blanket, and was readying to worm his way into Nekoma or Fukurodani’s holding classroom. Watching the circle focus their attention on one of Tanaka’s stories, Kei begins inching his way to the door. As if on instinct, Yamaguchi looks up, meets his eyes, and Kei freezes. But the former only sniggers, and nods minutely, pretending to be distracted by an incredibly animated Tanaka. Kei lets out a breath, continues inching his way to a blissful  _ slumber _ —

“Tsukishima’s trying to escape!” Hinata wails, reminding Kei  _ piercingly _ of a banshee. Kei winces.  _ Shit. _

Tanaka and Nishinoya’s heads snap to him, eyes narrowed. He pointedly avoids eye contact, fixing his face into a practised shape of disgust. “I’m  _ trying _ to sleep.”

“ _ Huh?  _ Don’t be lame! It’s the last night, let’s have some fun!” Hinata jumps up, grin overwhelmingly bright. 

Kei responds by clutching tighter onto his pillow and blanket. “No.” He turns, a note of finality in his movements.

_ Shit.  _ He whirls back around at the same time it occurs to him:  _ he’s let his guard down too early.  _ But three pairs of hands are already grabbing onto him, and, suddenly, he’s sitting in a circle with the rest of Karasuno. Still clutching onto his pillow and a blanket. Shit.

Grinning faces surround him, all unapologetic. Yamaguchi gives him a light smile, and a small shrug, mouthing,  _ sorry, Tsukki!  _ Even the Captain and Sugawara only laugh, as if they were truly parents watching their children quarrel. Hmm. Kei rethinks this analogy. Maybe more like owners watching their dogs play-fight.

Tanaka places an empty plastic bottle in the centre of the circle, and spins. Kei watches it with pronounced disdain. The spinning slows, and the bottle’s tip points towards Hinata, who visibly begins to shake with excitement.

“Hinata!” And Kei can almost hear the sharpened fangs in Tanaka’s voice.  _ “Truth or dare?”  _

Hinata panics, as if subconsciously noticing the same, as he forces out, “Uh, Truth!”

Tanaka makes a disappointed noise, and Hinata panics once again. In the middle of his apologies and declaration to change it to a dare, Kei’s mouth twitches. “I’ve got a question.”

They turn to him, eyes wide. Hinata blinks.

Kei smiles, all cheer. “Have you ever fantasised about anyone on our team? You have to name the person.” He adds on, head tilted. Expectant. Knowing.

Nishinoya slaps Kei on the back, hard, and his glasses fall down his nose. Kei clicks his tongue in annoyance, pushing his glasses back up. “Good job, Tsukishima! You’re just going for it!” Nishinoya then turns his overwhelming attention to Hinata. “So have you? I mean, of course you have,  _ look at us!  _ No shame here, Shouyo! But uh, who is it?”

Hinata’s face grows warm and red, mouth gaping. Well, serves him right for dragging Kei into this dumbass game. He could be asleep right now. He could be dreaming of a Hinata-less world. Fuck you, shortass.

Hinata glances back and forth between his lap and Kageyama, stammering unintelligibly. Kageyama seems to notice, but he only stares back at the spiker, head cocked. This undivided attention on him only serves to make Hinata’s stuttering more frantic, and he flails his arms at Kei. “I-I-I-”

Sugawara seems to stifle back a laugh, pity growing for the poor boy. “Well, if he doesn’t want to answer, he doesn’t have to! That right?” Watching the faces of Karasuno, Sugawara also appears to be the only one, other than Kei, to have grasped the situation.

Kei huffs, leaning back on his arms. “Whatever, I mean I don’t—”

“ASAHI!” Hinata abruptly screams.

The room falls silent. Hinata pointedly stares at the ceiling, face still deeply red. “I-I have always f-f-fantasised of… spiking like him.”

Kei spits. Nishinoya punches Asahi in the stomach, who only responds by laughing awkwardly, and blinking too much. Daichi looks like he’s about to puke, with the way he’s swallowing his laughter, as Sugawara shakes him furiously, tears welling up in his eyes. Nishinoya and Tanaka have progressed to slapping the shit out of each other, unable to contain themselves. Everyone is banging the floor, or pointing at Asahi and yelling. WIth the exception of Kageyama, who nods once firmly, as if in complete agreement. Kei notices, and laughs harder.

Hinata shrieks. “Okay, okay! Next person!  _ Next person!”  _ He lunges for the bottle, face still red, as everyone begins wheezing, coming down from the previous high.

Kei wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, and when his vision clears, he watches the bottle settle on him.  _ So karma is real. _ “Great. I choose tr—"

“Make the smartass do something embarrassing!” Tanaka says, fluffing up Nishinoya’s hair to its original height.

Kei arches a brow, leans forward. "I  _ said _ , I choose t—"

“Like… hmm, maybe… confess his undying love to someone?” Ennoshita says, a face of perfect innocence.

“Wait—”

“Yes, yes! To um…” Hinata trails off, wracking his brain desperately. He throws his hands in the air, defeated, and narrows his eyes at Hinata. Which is why he notices the moment the latter’s eyes widen, as if watching puzzle pieces fall together, and Kei thinks, for possibly the hundredth time that night:  _ Shit.  _ “To Kuroo!”

Kei looks stricken. He shoots a pleading look to Sugawara, who only smiles. There is an implication of,  _ well, you started this!  _ Then he looks to Daichi. “Captain, y-you approve this?”

Daichi shrugs, laughs. “Kuroo can take a joke! No harm having some fun on the last night.”

Kei makes another move to protest, when Nishinoya jumps to his feet. “C’mon, c’mon! I’ll see you through the dare!” He pushes Kei to his feet, dragging him out the door. Kei only blabs after uselessly, the unreasonable amount of force Nishinoya can exert on his lower body (given his lower centre of gravity) making it difficult to retort and balance himself at the same time. Pausing at the door, Nishinoya throws one last look behind them, “Leave it to your senpai, Hinata!”, before slamming it shut.

Which is why Kei and Nishinoya are currently scuffling in front of Nekoma’s holding classroom. Nishinoya scrambling for the doorknob, and Kei scrambling to stop him. Kei makes one firm grab for Nishinoya, but the latter swiftly ducks, and lunges for the doorknob, turning it and kicking the door in one quick movement. They freeze.

Nekoma, in the middle of a card game, look up. Kei suddenly feels  _ uneasy _ . Like he’s being scrutinised. Kuroo catches his eye, waves, still careful to press his cards against his chest with his other hand, hiding them from the rest. Kei briefly glances at the others now, curious, and only barely catches Yaku quickly averting his eyes from Kuroo.

“Captain! Kei wants— _ needs  _ to talk to you! Right now! Right now immediately now!” Nishinoya hollers. Satisfied, he nods to himself, says, “Okay, job done, see ya,” before calmly walking away. Once out of Nekoma’s line of sight, he starts running, leaping behind a nearby vending machine. He gives Kei a thumbs-up and a grin. Kei resists a sneer.

Kuroo raises a brow, genuine confusion on his face. He sets the cards aside, face-down. “Kenma, watch my cards for me,” he says, despite not sparing a look at the setter, as he watches Kei intently, getting up from his seat and heading towards him. Kei scrunches up his nose. Looks away.

“I’ll try my best,” Kenma says, words morphing into a faint whisper as Kuroo closes the door.

He stands a slight distance from Kei, the hallway illuminated only by the vending machines behind him (where  _ Nishinoya  _ is hiding, Kei reminds himself). “Something on your mind?”

Kei notices that Kuroo is leaning on one leg, now, trying to look at anywhere but his eyes. Now that he thinks about it, Kuroo seems to hardly ever stands straight. He wonders why. He’s been wondering a lot of things about the older boy ever since they met a few days ago.

“I—” And he has to really just go for it. Just go for it. He can’t stall, doesn’t know how to build up. “Um—” He’s going for it. “I like you. 

He looks up, sees Kuroo’s mouth parts, and quickly averts his eyes again, training his face into something more neutral, but he knows—can feel his face  _ burning _ . And god, he’s still trying to figure out why in the fuck did he say yes to this? He knows—  _ knows  _ if he really genuinely minded this he wouldn’t be here wouldn’t allow himself to be here but now, now (he sees Kuroo’s fingers twitch, just a brief tremble of a shadow) and he thinks: God, he can’t believe he’s let this happen—

Kuroo huffs, and Kei snaps to reality, watching as the boy presses his weight onto the back of his heels, peering upwards at Kei. “Okay,” he says, eyes firm, “let’s go out then.”

Kei blinks.  _ “What?”  _

Kuroo’s back instinctively straightens. “What?”

Kei feels like he’s been thrown into a pressure cooker, steaming steaming steaming. “N-no! I’m—” And a burst of nervous laughter wheezes from him. “This  _ really  _ just was not—I—”

Kuroo watches this happen, quiet, face blank. When Kei runs out of sputters, Kuroo only stays silent, lets the other settle. Kei’s shoulders fall, and the other tilts his head, attempts a smile.

“I mean you’re cute, and uh,” scratching his head, Kuroo scrunches his face up, an expression Kei can’t read. “I especially like the way your head works—honestly, you’re too smart to be in Karasuno, and how that translates into your volleyball, and I like how honest you are, and how you never back down from a fight. If… if that’s what’s got you in a fix.”

The yellowed, flickering lights from the vending machines behind Kuroo provide a stark contrast to the red spreading around his upper body. And somehow, the sight is what calms Kei down. He’s just as freaked out as me, I guess, he thinks 

Kuroo looks up at him again, and Kei wonders what he looks like now, if the way his expression has begun to flatten soothes or confuses Kuroo. Then, even more stupidly, he wonders if the faint whirring of the vending machines was enough to hide the slamming of his heart against his ribcage.

“Do you have an answer?”

And isn’t it weird that Kei was the one who confessed (the vending machine jolts ever so slightly, just a small shift in the way the light shone against Kuroo’s damp hair, and Kei remembers: ah, but he didn’t, he didn’t confess), but Kuroo was the one asking for an answer now.

“I don’t… I’m not sure.” And this is the only thing he feels he can do for Kuroo right now, who is showing such an honest expression. He feels he owes him the truth.

Kuroo looks surprised. Probably thinking along the same lines as he had been. “Oh. Oh, yeah sure. Completely understand.”

Kei breathes slowly through his nose, attempting to regulate his heartbeat as he watches the vending machine shake just slightly more than it had, watches the way Kuroo’s fingers drag up the sides of his shorts, then relax. “I’m s—” Kei begins to say.

The other immediately holds up a hand. “Don’t apologise. You didn’t even do anything wrong, yeah? I appreciate the honesty.” And he smiles, and Kei feels a little… off. Disappointment? Maybe something milder. Or more hollow.

Kei nods, and Kuroo closes the distance between them, still that same smile. The tilt of his lips that goes against the tilt of his head. The incongruence usually bringing about an instinctive sense of suspicion, but now, only feeling strangely warm, like when you notice odd traits in twins. Kuroo reaches up, running his hand through Kei’s head, and _ of course  _ Kei doesn’t stop him, only lets him gently ruffle his hair. 

Kei blushes, hates himself for blushing, for being obvious, and he grabs onto Kuroo’s arms. Kuroo stops, shocked. Kei refuses to look at him. Kuroo drops his hand, Kei’s own falling as well. And maybe Kuroo said something, but Kei isn’t paying attention, his heart beating too fast in his ears, and suddenly Kuroo is walking back in to Nekoma's holding classroom, and he becomes the only thing Kei can pay attention to. He can hear the ruckus behind their door, voices distorted through the wood, where a piece of paper with a poorly drawn feline was stuck on.

_ "Kenma! Didn't I ask you to watch my cards?" _

_ "I did try. Promise." _

Kei doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there, thinking  _ holy fucking shit _ , when someone shakes him. He looks. Nishinoya stares at him, no sense of his usual brand of humour in his eyes. “He’s serious.”

Kei nods. Doesn’t know how to react. Doesn’t know how Nishinoya will react.

Nishinoya studies him, and his gaze is so piercing, so  _ thorough _ , that Kei considers if he’s been wrong about him this entire time. “You’re serious too,” Nishinoya says, and Kei flinches, and the other flinches, too, shaking his head wildly. “Shit! This was a mistake!”

Kei rolls his eyes. “Yeah, wonder when’d you realise.”

And Nishinoya is, for once, too engrossed in his own train of thoughts to respond appropriately. “Scratch that, scratch that! Okay, look: This  _ isn’t _ a mistake. You can make this not a mistake. You can make this the  _ opposite _ of a mistake!" 

Kei frowns. “How?”

“Turn this into an opportunity, instead. C’mon, you and I both know neither of you would’ve confessed if it wasn’t for Shouyo’s dare! Both of you are cowards!" 

Kei twitches. “I’m just careful”, he mumbles. 

“Like I said, cowards! Anyway, rest assured, I won’t tell a soul! Just focus on what’s in front of you right now, yeah?” And Nishinoya slaps Kei’s chest, swivelling around to make his way back to the rest of Karasuno.

So Kei is left in a dark corridor, with a bruised back, watching Nishinoya whistling away down the empty corridor. He glances down the other side, at the door with a scrawled cat. Kei listens to Nishinoya’s footprints fade into the whirring of the vending machines, half of his face washed in a yellow glow, and thinks, for what he hopes is the last time that day:  _ Shit.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a tERRIBLE title and subject to change


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after.

Kei bites down viciously onto the piece of watermelon in his hands.

Yamaguchi, sitting on the bench next to him, glances up from his plate of meat. “Tsukki, are you okay?”

He huffs, takes another brutal bite. _“Just peachy.”_

Yamaguchi jolts at the same time Kei forcefully swallows. “If you ever need to talk about it…”

“Yeah.”

And, wow, _holy shit_ he’s never been more pissed in his _life_ . He cannot fucking believe that goddamn _sonofabitch_ would pull that kind of _childish_ stunt on him like this. Kei gulps down a shriek, drops his face into the crook his elbow. But really, worst of all, he just can’t believe _himself_ . He can’t believe he was so… _easy_.

“Tsukki! I’ll get you some water! Hang in there!” And Yamaguchi was already out of his seat, so Kei only manages to mutter a _thanks_ into thin air.

He remembers this morning, in their last practice match, which _just his luck_ , was with Nekoma. And Kei was _firm_ about not letting anyone know about what happened yesterday. He had honestly felt so fucking terrible about it, remembering the quiet reactions he’d drawn from the other.

In the first rotation where Kuroo and Kei were both on the front line, Nishinoya had run up to give Kei a quick slap on the back as they shuffled. Kei grimaces, pushing his glasses back up. Not a weird gesture at all.

Kuroo had leered at him, the usual expression he wore when playing, some kind of ingrained intimidation tactic. But Kei felt strangely flustered, darting his eyes away immediately. The other team’s wing spiker abruptly screams something, and Kei jerks— cannot fucking believe he let his fucking guard down like this—flitting his eyes to the setter, only barely managing to catch the direction of the toss of the ball, before he jumps.

He slams the ball down, aiming it _far_ away from Kuroo, and watches it touch the ground.

Now, Kei leers.

Kuroo laughs, turns around with a, “Yamamoto, don’t mind! Their middle blocker’s getting _much_ better.”

And there it was, that easy energy between the two of them, and Kei felt his shoulders relax for the first time since last night, drinking in the sound of the other’s throaty laugh, the sly tilt of his head, the unreadable glint in his eyes.

Kuroo walks over to Nekoma’s setter, whispers something in his ear, and the other nods, face blank.

“I’ll be spiking the next one,” Kuroo suddenly proclaims, raising an eyebrow at Kei, as if in challenge.

“Huh?”

Kuroo leans towards him, just slightly, but enough to make Kei fight the instinctive urge to move back. “I said, I’ll be spiking the next one,” he repeats, conversational, “So please…” His voice lowers, and he leans in, “Let the person you like through, okay?” And Kuroo winks.

Kei’s mouth drops, flapping uselessly as he feels the red in his face spread deep into his bones. _What the fuck?_

“Wh-wh-wh-wha—”

Kuroo’s eyes snap upwards, and Kei, alarmed, follows his gaze at the same time Kuroo jumps. Kei swears through gritted teeth, scrambles after him, hands barely scratching the air beneath the other’s nose.

The ball zips past his ear, drops onto the ground behind him.

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

Kuroo blows him a kiss with two fingers, as he sing-songs, “Told you so!”

And Kageyama is yelling in the background, “What kind of jump was that?!” And Kei immediately turns, says something condescending back, glad for the chance to pretend to be distracted. He watches Nishinoya hold a struggling Kageyama back, as he shoots Kei a look that says, _Stay strong, grasshopper._

They’d lost that game with Nekoma.

Now, a hand stretches out from beside him, a cup of water in its grip. He blinks, takes it. “Ah. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” And Kei jolts, because it’s that sing-song voice from before.

 _Oh goddamn it._ The blond immediately stands, turns.

There is a whine from behind him. “Aw c’mon! Is that how you treat the person you like?”

Kei whirls. “Why do you have to be so _loud?”_

Kuroo tilts his head, and Kei _feels_ the heat sinking deeper into his skin, as he tries to not break eye contact first. Finally, Kuroo smiles. “You’re blushing. I like that,” he says, plain, and Kei settles, remembering to breathe again, being strangely reminded of the vending machines, of shadows marred by a yellowed glow, “Come on, sit back down.” He pats the space beside him. Kei obliges.

He puts his feet on the bench, pulls his knees in closer. He wonders where Yamaguchi was, what he’d think if he saw the two of them together like this, away from everybody else. What if _anybody_ saw them like this? He didn’t fully understand why that question lingered in his mouth like something bitter.

Kuroo takes a long sip of water. “So you’re going back to Miyagi after the barbecue, right?”

Kei burrows his chin deeper into the space between his knees. “Yeah.”

“That sucks.” Kuroo leans against the wall of the school building behind them. “Was kind of hoping to get to know you better, honestly.”

Kei hums. “I appreciate the honesty.”

Kuroo laughs. Kei turns at the sound, stares at the other in sudden wonder, but quickly hides his mistake by grabbing for the cup of water and downing it. The other only watches in amusement, as he places his cup down, and buries himself between his knees again. When Kei had heard that laugh, he’d thought, _how comforting,_ and it was strange, because on the first day of the training camp, he wouldn’t have expected to begin associating _quiet,_ and _soft,_ with someone like Kuroo.

The blond lifts his head, attempting to seem as casual as possible, as he pulls out his phone. He knows Kuroo is watching, as always. The idea of it makes him glad, that he doesn’t have to overthink, doesn’t have to translate the mess in his head into something understandable for the other. He waves his phone, says, “Technology has gotta be useful for  _ something.” _

Kuroo laughs, again that same sound. He reaches for his own phone, and they exchange numbers without much fanfare. Kei briefly takes note of the unfamiliarity of such a moment for him. The desire to  _ maintain  _ and  _ uncover _ is strange. He doesn’t have a lot of people that have stuck by in his life, only his immediate relatives and Yamaguchi, who really only managed to stick around through sheer willpower. Not that he isn’t grateful.

Kuroo takes a bit too long typing, and when Kei attempts to peek over his shoulder, the other promptly hands Kei’s phone back, with a flourish. “I left you Bokuto and Akaashi’s contacts, too. They clearly like you, too.” Kei resists the urge to swallow. There wasn’t any kind of odd emphasis, but the way Kuroo’s mouth twitched at _too_ , and the way he’d looked at him like they were sharing a secret, as if he was sure Kei was watching him in the same way he watched Kei. It made his pulse beat a lot faster than he would like.

At this point, Yamaguchi tumbles over, leaning against the wall beside the bench, panting hard, the cups in his hands shaking and spilling water. _“Goddamn it!”_

Kei blinks, takes his phone back, hands Kuroo his own. “Thanks.”

Kuroo looks between the dazed Yamaguchi, and Kei, and smiles. “My cue to leave, huh? See you around, then.” He takes his phone back, waving with it as he walks back to the rest, and Yamaguchi looks up, wide-eyed.

He calms, hands Kei a cup. “Was that Nekoma’s captain?” He says, sitting down at where Kuroo had sat.

“Yeah.”

“How’d he know where to find you?”

“Don’t know. Animal instinct, maybe.”

Yamaguchi snickers. Then, “You don’t think he was mad about your dare yesterday, do you?”

Ah, yes. _Yesterday._ “Don’t think so.”

The other boy nods. “Yeah, Noya said he took it really well, anyway. You guys must be close, huh?”

Kei considers. “I guess.” Yamaguchi doesn’t respond, just looks to him anticipatorily, patiently. “I… didn’t really process,” Kei begins again, slow, “that I was spending most of my free time in this camp with them.”

And then Yamaguchi smiles, unfiltered, just like everything else about him. Rough around the edges, but lacking any kind of self-awareness to hide them, as if it didn’t even cross his mind to cover them up. Kei has always appreciated that about him. “I’m really glad for you, Tsukki.” Knows that when he says something like that, he means it.

Kei nods. “What took you so long, anyway?’

Yamaguchi huffs. “Hinata was asking me where you were, so I said I wouldn’t tell him, right? And then he started _chasing me!_ Okay, so what the hell. And he ran after me all through the crowd, until Noya came in and stopped him. But I ran here anyway, just in case, you know?”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought Noya was trying to join Hinata, to be honest.”

“Yeah.”

They ate mostly in silence, comfortable, the buzz of the crowd nearby settling as background noise.

At some point, the sky softens into swirls of pink and orange. Sugawara comes to find them, says, _Kuroo pointed me here,_ and asks them to come back, help with cleanup, that their bus was arriving in fifteen minutes.

Throughout cleanup, and until Kei boards the bus, Kuroo doesn’t speak to him. He notices the fact that he notices. It mostly just pisses him off. And also mildly unnerve him.

He stares out of the window, Yamaguchi beside him, and watches the captains shake hands. Nearby, a vigorous motion catches his eye, and he turns his head to see Bokuto waving furiously, Akaashi doing a much more graceful version at his side.

“See ya, Tsukki!” Bokuto yells, and Akaashi’s eyes crinkle just that bit more, and Kei will never admit the way he’s smiling right now.

He can feel the bus wobble slightly, as the rest of Karasuno make their way inside, and Kei blinks at the way they stumble in, a large and loud bunch. When he looks back out the window, he catches the eye of Nekoma’s captain, who waves his phone at him, mouths something Kei can’t quite catch.

 _What?_ He mouths back.

Kuroo’s lips are moving again, and okay, Kei is just _terrible_ at lip-reading, because he genuinely can’t catch a single thing he’s saying. He squints.

 _The fuck?_ He mouths.

Kuroo pouts. Bokuto and Akaashi are laughing beside him,

“Tsukishima? Tsukishima!”

Yamaguchi flicks his arm.

Kei jerks. “Ah. Yeah. Here. Sorry.”

Daichi frowns. “Get some rest on the way back, yeah?” And continues with roll call.

When he turns back to look out the window, Nekoma and Fukurodani, and the rest of the schools are gathered, in a haphazard bunch. Kuroo lost among the crowd, and Bokuto wholly absorbing the attention of his team, Akaashi quietly humouring him.

Daichi finishes with roll call, and the bus starts.

Kei finds sleep easy, not waking until they reach Karasuno.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what I did instead of my homework!!! #productivitygoals!! Sorry it was so short though :(
> 
> But anyway, I'm not like super happy with the way this chapter turned out, so I'll probably rewrite it some other time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kei fiddles with his phone, groans, and hits himself in the face with it.

Kei fiddles with his phone, groans, and hits himself in the face with it.

Jesus.

He’s sitting on the floor, back against his bed, knees up to his chest. This is the position he’s assumed ever since he got out of the shower, hair still wet and everything.

The bus had dropped them off at Karasuno in the evening. During Daichi’s debrief, Kageyama and Hinata were restless and jumpy, still _itching_ to play another match. Daichi, like a reasonable human being, had said no, and Kageyama and Hinata had reacted by packing up with inhuman speed and leaving first. Later, Kei and Yamaguchi found them at the park, still practising, and Hinata had asked them to join, and Kei had said he wasn’t sure if the king could handle his blocks so up-close. Kageyama responded by slamming the ball down, hitting Hinata in the face. Kei smirked.

Then the second years showed up. Then the third years (save the captain and vice) showed up. Daichi showed up around ten, with them _hearing_ him before seeing him. _Are you guys five?! Have you no sense of responsibility? Don’t abuse your bodies like this! How can you even think_ —Sugawara merely laughs behind a hand.

So Daichi shooed them home, Yamaguchi walking Kei to his gate as usual, waving with a hand, and covering his yawn with the other, while he walked further down the street to his own house.

And now here he is, fresh out of the bath, at 1am, agonising about whether to text Kuroo.

_What were you trying to say just now? When I was on the bus._

That was innocuous enough. He clicks send, ignoring the way his thumb twitches over the button.

He stares at the screen for a while, catches himself staring at a blank screen, and throws his phone on the bed instead, getting up to turn off the lights. He needs to sleep. Needs. He can’t stay up like this, not after the training camp. He knows this. So he slides under the covers, lays the phone on the table, and closes his eyes.

_Ding!_

Fuck. He doesn’t realise his eyes are opened again until he has to close it, and pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach contort.

Shit. But the light, he tells himself, he can’t sleep unless he turns off the notification, so the screen doesn’t light up anymore. He reaches over, pulls the phone to his face, and well—he might as well read the message too.

_LOL i wanted u 2 text me when u reached home safe_

And Kei immediately regrets reading the message. He feels like his eyes have just been burnt. A second _ding_.

_glad u still did tho. glad ure safe_

Kei sighs, feels himself soften, burrow deeper into his pillow. A third _ding_. Oh god, Kuroo’s one of those. Those serial texters.

_＼(￣▽￣)／_

Okay, this is just getting too much. A fourth _ding._

_so….. y still awake?_

He’s not really sure of the answer himself. He types _i don’t know_ , then backspaces, tries typing _idk,_  backspaces, types it again in caps, backspaces. Types _idk_ again, but adds, _just don’t feel like it yet._

Kuroo’s reply is almost immediate. _miss me alr?_

Kei’s grip on his phone tightens, and he has to stop himself from throwing it across the room. Goddamn slimy _cat._ The phone _dings_ again.

_JKJK_

And again. _DONT GET MAD ( ´ ▽ ` )_

He’s honestly still in shock this 18 year old (piece of shit) texts like his 5 year old niece.

Another _ding. still thinking abt the camp then?_

He waits for another _ding_ , and when it doesn’t come, types, _Yeah. And I’m not mad. Asshole._

This time, the _ding_ comes too fast, and Kei knows it’s something stupid.

_LMAOOO_

He hates the guy. He waits for the _ding_ again, but it doesn’t come, so he starts typing—

_but yeah i get it. like the camp feels like it takes place in a whole other world, so 2 come back to this one feels pretty strage……_

Kei smiles to himself, quickly smothers it behind a hand. He had almost forgotten Kuroo wasn’t completely stupid, not even close. He starts typing again. _*Strange._

He pauses, waits till he knows Kuroo is typing again, and then quickly adds, _And yeah, guess you’re right. Never thought about it like that before._

His phone _dings_ , ASSHOLE!!!!

The next message follows immediately after, clearly typed with inhuman speed, _and_ _woah!!!! did kEI just say im rIGHT????? the world is end_ _ing!!!!!!!ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ_

He laughs. At the next _ding_ , he can feel his lids shutter, but forces them back open to focus on the words.

_anw im going 2 sleep soon. see ya_

He blinks. He hadn’t realised how much he didn’t want this conversation to end. Not because it was particularly stimulating (of course not that), but just for the simple fact of him wanting to stay in contact with Kuroo. When this conversation ends, they’ll both start school, and they’ll be busy, and then Kei has to agonise about whether to start another conversation first, which would make him seem desperate? _Or_ Kei does start a conversation again, but Kuroo is too busy to reply, and the conversation dies naturally, then there is no more excuse to revive it because it just means Kuroo is too _busy_ to entertain the texts and by extension entertain him and—jesus—this is why he hates to _think_ —

_ill text u agn tmr!!! dont ignore m_ _e ( ﾟ，_ゝ｀)_

Kei breathes.

_I’ll try._

Then again.

_Goodnight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pray for me yall


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i imagine kei to be listening to young the giant's "waves" so feel free to listen as you read! also "distance" by elijah newman is good to listen to for this chapter too!

Kei is on his way to Saturday morning practice when his phone  _ dings. _ He opens the message. 

_ gd morning!!!!! _

Another  _ ding. _

_ ヽ/❀o ل͜ o\ﾉ _

He snorts. Idiot. His fingers hover over the keyboard, and he thinks  _ number fifteen, this is good morning text number fifteen,  _ and his fingers stutter in midair. He closes the messages. Pulling the headphones off his neck, he slides them onto his ears, playing Young the Giant. There isn’t anything much to say to Kuroo now, anyway, but he guesses he can talk about how practice goes afterward. He continues walking.

He’s almost at the school gates when two shadows flit past him, screeching wildly. He watches them keel over on the gymnasium steps in the distance, can see their chests violently heaving, and blinks. Holy  _ shit _ , he hadn’t even realised. He looks down at himself, at the sun, then at the two bodies collapsed on top of each other, completely, utterly  _ disgusted.  _ He’d always been early to practice, but within the 2-5 minute margin only. Just early enough to not get any shit about it. But now,  _ now _ he was almost (an ‘almost’ he  _ cannot _ take comfort in)  _ earlier _ than the actual honest-to-god  _ idiot duo.  _ If they hadn’t dashed in like that, he would have had to experience that gymnasium at 6.30am (he’s…  _ thirty minutes early?! _ ) by himself and would have only been capable of huddling in a corner and questioning his sanity. 

He walks over to the gymnasium. Hinata spots him, leaps up. “We almost lost to you!  _ You!” _

“If you continue regressing like that, other people are gonna steal your places you know?” He sneers, stepping over the both of them into the hall. “And anyway, I just won.”

Kageyama springs to his feet, and they’re both at attention, eyes darting between Kei (inside the gym) and themselves (on the gym steps). Kei entertains them for a moment, smirking, before heading to the club room. A bubble bursts behind him. Kageyama falls against the door, face shrivelling. Hinata breaks into a wail. Kei smiles, bright, and thinks,  _ I’ll tell Kuroo about this later. _

After they settle, Hinata and Kageyama start setting up the court, then begin their ridiculous morning ritual of races. Kei stays at the club room and lays his head on the table, flat-out snoring within seconds. The sun warms, and people start streaming in, all yawns and idle voices. Just as Daichi starts to gather everyone into the hall, Nishinoya and Tanaka tumble inside, panting. The morning is starting as usual. 

Coach Ukai can’t make it today, so Daichi is the one leading practice. The decisions he makes are spontaneous and assured, everyone following him through to the pinpoint direction of his finger. Kei waits for his turn at spiking practice, and in this briefly stagnant moment, he wonders who will be capable of replacing the captain. The second years are inspired, but none of them carry themselves the same way. 

He thinks about Kuroo, wonders how he was chosen—when it was that his teammates decided  _ he’s the one we need. _

“Tsukishima!” Daichi calls, and Kei steps in the space left behind by Yamaguchi. 

“Get ready!” Daichi’s eyes are fierce, and Kei thinks  _ this is how he inspires us.  _ The way his gaze inches inside—Kei slams the ball across the net, harder than he intended to—inside you. Seeing you when you aren’t—trying your absolute best, and when—you are. Members rely on their captain for—inspiration, and like Kenma, Kei think’s Kuroo’s speeches are—

Kei misses. “Tsukishima, another five! Watch the ball!”

He nods, readies himself again.

Kei thinks Kuroo’s speeches are incredibly—embarrassing, but the way Nekoma relies on him—is more than obvious. They hang on his—every syllable, every sweep of his—eyes. When they play, Kei can see the way Kuroo’s words—echo in their heads.

“Tsukishima, good job! Hinata, you’re up!”

The way the letters string between each member, every formation a circle. Kei can at least see that.

Daichi runs them through a couple more exercises, then practice matches, switching players around as he points out where each of them are lacking. In the last practice match, Kei and Nishinoya are on the sidelines. Daichi had wanted to see the rest play without relying on Nishinoya, even when they were completely exhausted. And Kei had just volunteered to leave the line-up when Daichi wanted to add Ennoshita for the last match.

Kei leans against the wall, eyes shuttering even through the sting of sweat on his lashes. Nishinoya drops himself down beside him. 

He eyes the blond. “So…” He fidgets, looks away.

Kei jolts. He has never seen Nishinoya so…  _ shy. _ “So...?” It grosses him out. 

Nishinoya huffs, volume a controlled whisper (which is so out of character for him that Kei considers just leaping up and running) as he says, “So about... Nekoma’s captain.”

“Huh.”

“Anything happen after the training camp?”

“We’re still talking if that counts.”

“Oh. That’s great, that’s great.”

Kei is  _ completely _ freaked out now. There is the fact that this is the first time Nishinoya has brought up what happened with Kuroo after the training camp. Kei has, of course, noticed the way Nishinoya kept darting his eyes towards him and flapping his mouth as if he had something to say. He didn’t ever end up saying anything though, not until now, and Kei is never one to press so he left it at there. But no, more than that, this is Nishinoya,  _ not _ at full blast, this is Nishinoya  _ not _ blurting out every sound that crosses his mind, this is just…  _ not  _ Nishinoya. Kei hopes he spits it out.

“Spit it out,” is what he says to convince him to do so.

“No, no!” Nishinoya scrubs his hands through his hair as if suffering a great dilemma. “You’ve been kinda weird after the training camp so I wanted to check in with you but—but then I remembered Suga once told me that...if I wanted to talk to someone about something important I had to you know, get them alone so they  _ trust _ me and—and  _ think _ about every word I was going to say, and just—”

Kei cuts him off. “Don’t worry, that only works if Sugawara is the one doing it. You’re not Sugawara. What do you want to know?”

Nishinoya relaxes so fast he crumples against the wall, breathing out an overwhelming sigh of relief. “Thank  _ god. _ So you’re dating him huh?”

Kei narrows his eyes. “No.”

Nishinoya sits up. “ _ Huh? _ But you’re texting? Every day?”

“Yes.”

“Good morning texts?”

How does he… “Yes.”

_ “Goodnight texts?” _

“...Yes.”

“So you’re acting like you’re dating, but you’re not.”

Kei winces. “That’s oversimplifying—”

“What’s the problem then?”

He blinks, slows his words down as he attempts to think through them. “I… I don’t know—”

Nishinoya is following the shape of his mouth, echoing his words half a beat after Kei, and he finishes the statement with, “don’t know… if you like him.” Kei doesn’t answer, so Nishinoya continues. “Given it a long, hard thought yet?”

Kei clicks his tongue. “Not that easy. I haven’t been sleeping well because of this.”

And Nishinoya only looks horrified.  _ “What? _ Young love is supposed to be carefree and wild! Stop giving it so much unnecessary thought!”

Kei pauses. “Tell me when carefree and wild can bridge the gap between Miyagi and Tokyo.”

The other deflates. “Oh.” Then quickly revives. “Visiting, video calls, texting, snail mail. You don’t have to stop talking or seeing each other just because you aren’t a couple living metres away! Plus, you’re going to Tokyo for university, aren’t you?”

Kei shrugs. “Probably.”

“There you go!”

“I’ve still got two and a half years in Miyagi.”

“So? Take a risk!”

“But what if I don’t like him?” Kei feels a little frustrated now, frustrated at the  _ easiness  _ of Nishinoya’s answers as if Kei hadn’t thought the very same things as he was lying awake at night? As if he hadn’t thought about every possible thing? “Then what, just waste his time while I  _ test it out _ and  _ take a risk _ and get him travelling between Tokyo and Miyagi? He should be preparing for college.”

Nishinoya is quiet now, and Kei is on a roll. “And if I  _ do _ like him? How the  _ hell _ are you supposed to accept having been confessed to as a  _ prank _ at first? What the fuck do I tell him about that?”

The practice match ends. Daichi wants to gather everyone for cool down stretches. Nishinoya and Kei stand up. Nishinoya says, “Tsukishima. You can imagine all these different scenarios, but you’ll never know what’s actually going to happen.” He pats Kei on the back, then jogs towards the rest. Kei staggers back a little, unfocused, then follows suit, mouth pressed into a hard line.

Upstairs in the club room, his phone vibrates in his bag.  _ Ding! _

_ i wnt 2 see u _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my update speed is about as terrible as my exam grades.


End file.
